The Pain of Grief
by dreaminginglitter
Summary: When Harry can't sleep, he has a conversation with Mrs. Wealsey about the pain of the war and the ones they had lost.


If Harry listened closely in the stillness of the night, he could hear their voices as he had dreamed them, as if they were right there next to him.

"It's your fault we're dead," the voices would say.

If Harry continued to listen, he could pick out individual voices from the group.

His father.

His mother.

Cedric.

Sirius.

Mad-Eye.

Remus.

Tonks.

Fred.

All people who had died because of him, all because they were fighting for him. Really, it was because they had been standing in the way of Harry, and Voldemort or his army had gotten to them first. There were even more than that, too. As far as Harry was concerned, too many good, loving people had died.

It had been a few weeks since the final battle, but the pain of everything they had lost was as strong as ever. It kept Harry up at night, a physical pain so strong it felt as if it would burst forth from his chest at any moment. It was all too much, and even sleep didn't relieve him from all the emotions in his body and mind. The guilt he had felt from everyone dying just grew more as each day passed, and he knew he would live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

He found himself incredibly exhausted as he lay in bed at the Burrow, looking out the window at the moonlight shining down from the sky. In the bed next to his was Ron's, and Ron was sleeping away. This wasn't surprising, as Ron had always been a heavy sleeper. Harry wondered how his friend could could sleep, as the entire Weasley family had been taking Fred's death pretty hard.

Deciding that he wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon, Harry quietly crept downstairs to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate, supposing that would relax him enough to help him sleep. When he got to the bottom of the steps, it made him think about how the house felt so empty now, and the warmth he felt here as a child seemed to have disappeared. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy being here, simply that the war had taken a toll on everyone. The tragedies that took place changed each one of them in one way or another. As much as he wished it were possible, things would never be the same again. This was their new normal, and having to adjust to life without the ones they had lost would be very difficult. Taking a step towards the kitchen, Harry was surprised to find Mrs. Weasley sitting at the kitchen table. She looked up and gave him a small smile.

"Hello Harry," she said gently, patting the seat next to her, an invitation for him to sit down. "What are you doing up at this hour?" she asked, as Harry took the seat.

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted. Upon looking at her, Harry realized Molly's eyes had been red and he could see tear streaks down her face. She must have been crying about Fred again, as she often did.

Molly nodded, a look of understanding on her face. For a moment they sat in silence, the quietness of the night feeling almost disturbing. Molly broke the spell, her voice making Harry jump slightly. A small wave of panic washed over him, though he knew there was no reason to feel panicked. Harry didn't do well with unexpected noises.

"Are you okay, Harry?" the older woman asked gently, looking into Harry's eyes, just as he had done moments before. "I know the past year must have been incredibly difficult for you."

"Well..." Harry began, trying to decide if he should be honest or not. Though the battle was over and he logically knew they were all safe, the effects the past few years still took a toll on the seventeen year old. He didn't need to burden Mrs. Weasley with his problems, he was sure that the weight of her grief was enough for her to deal with. He was strong enough to handle it all on his own, right? He cast his eyes towards the table, noticing how the pain in his chest had returned.

A look of pain must have crossed Harry's face as he was thinking, because Mrs. Weasley spoke again. "Please, Harry, dear...be honest with me."

"I just, er—during the war...so many people died, and I've been having a difficult time with that. It's just a lot, and especially because..." He glanced towards Fred's usual spot at the table before he even realized it. Hanging his head, Harry sighed.

"Because of Fred?"

"Yeah, I guess it's easy to feel like the entire bloody war was my fault." There they were. The words were out in the open now, and Harry couldn't take them back. He heard Mrs. Weasley softly gasp in surprise.

"Harry, my dear, the war has never been your fault. You were just a baby when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came after your parents, there wasn't anything you could do to stop him. Everyone that fought in the war fought because they wanted to, they knew all the risks associated with that, including Fred. Nobody blames you for anything. Not me, Arthur, Ron, Ginny, and all the others. As much as I miss Fred because he was one of my children, I could never blame you for something someone else did. You're as good as my son, too, Harry," She said, as she lifted Harry's chin with her thumb and looked him in the eyes.

His chest burning, Harry began to cry, the weight of all that he had felt finally becoming too much for him to handle. Wordlessly, Mrs. Weasley wrapped her arms around the boy, whispering words of comfort.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but Harry eventually pulled away, looking at the woman he held in such high regard. Somehow finding his voice, he whispered, "thank you, Mrs. Wealsey" and noticed that his voice sounded raspy.

"You're welcome. It'll be difficult, but you'll get through this. We all will. And Harry, please call me Molly," Molly smiled at him. Although he didn't know it, talking to Harry had helped her, too. "Get some rest, I'll save breakfast for you."

Harry smiled back at her, thankful for her support. Maybe she was right in that they'd all get through this, and he could take it one day at a time.


End file.
